


Purgatorium

by lovekaity



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Bisexual Will Graham, Bottom Will Graham, But I Can't Promise They Won't Fuck Before Then, Consensual Underage Sex, Dark Hannibal Lecter, Dark Will Graham, Depression, Dry Humping, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Sex, F/M, FUCKING ANGST MAN, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Fuck They Both Do, Hannibal Is A Psychiatrist, Hannibal Is Like 30 Though, Hannibal Is Such a Cutie Pie, Hannibal Is Young Too, Hannibal Isn't a Distinguished Psychiatrist Yet, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal is Will's Psychiatrist, He just wants love, He's Just A Fucking Teenager, I promise, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, Is That Young? I don't fuckin know, Light High School Scenes, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Nervous Hannibal, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Bottom Will Graham, Sad Will Graham, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Denial, Self-Hatred, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Someone Help Will Graham, Suicidal Thoughts, Teasing, Teen Angst, Teen Crush, Therapy, They're Both Fucking Manipulative, Top Hannibal Lecter, Underage Drinking, Underage Kissing, Underage Sex, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Is Like Hannibal's Third Patient, Will Is Still Smart, Will Is Turning Eighteen, Will Is Underage, Will is Somewhat Mentally Ill, Will likes Beverly, Will likes Hannibal, Young Hannibal Lecter, Young Will Graham, emotional issues, eventually, hannibal is so sweet, hannibal isn't a killer, he needs it, i'm emotional, kind of, so there's that, sorry - Freeform, teen drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 00:23:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovekaity/pseuds/lovekaity
Summary: Will always feels stuck between two things. He's closed off from the rest of the world, save for his best friend Beverly. He doesn't like to talk to anyone about it.His parents want him to talk to someone. Enter Dr. Hannibal Lecter.





	Purgatorium

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal and Will meet for the first time and, in true Hannibal and Will style, are somewhat infatuated by each other. 
> 
>  
> 
> Visuals for what they look like in this story are at the end! Feedback is always appreciated.

Chapter One: The Meeting

 

 

Just to be clear, Will’s parents probably didn’t even know he was gay. Will didn't even know _if_ he was gay.

Yeah, there were the wandering eyes in the locker room at school whenever a boy would come about from the steaming shower, beads dripping along his skin, entwined with the various dips of muscle. The towels hung low on toned hipbones, the curve of every v-line striking the waterworks in Will’s mouth. If the locker rooms weren’t already hot, he’d have no excuse for breaking out into a sweat, his blood red face flushed to death.

There was also the way his World History teacher moved. He had deep brown skin, that disappeared into the collar of his button ups, swallowed by the fabric. He wore decent fitting slacks, nice oxford shoes and his face was one Will attested only a true God could produce. Either side of his head was shaved neatly at the perimeter, afro-textured coils shaped to perfection on his scalp, defying gravity. Will liked to watch his mouth as he spoke, full lips forming each word beautifully, his hands helping to get the point across. Sometimes his eyes would meet Will’s and his heart would skip a beat and his eyes would flutter.

But still, Will didn’t ever address it. It was merely a metaphorical elephant in a metaphorical room. And besides, Will liked Beverly, too. Times came when he couldn’t quite put a finger on whether she was a distraction from the elephant or the elephant was a distraction from her, yet whenever he’d hear the calming sound of her voice over the telephone or would meet up with her in person, the elephant fully ceased to exist. Whether it was her high, admirable intellect and ability to hold an interesting conversation, her beautiful doe eyes or those goddamn olive legs that went on for days, Will couldn’t quite decide.

All in all, Will liked his life the way it was. He didn’t need to worry himself about things he didn’t quite understand or elephants or concepts he just didn’t have the capacity to think about yet.

Yet his parents thought differently. They wanted him to talk so badly. No he wasn’t mute.

He just was seventeen. He didn’t want to talk to his damn parents. He didn’t feel like he had to. It didn’t help that his mom was a shrink and it definitely didn’t help that his father was a _life coach_. Whatever the fuck that meant.

But really, all Will had asked of his parents was to give him some space. That meant no more creepy, oversharing monologues, questions about his sex life, questions about his place in the world, no more _fucking questions_ at all. And they’d agreed. Until they didn’t.

It was about 11:55 AM and Will stood in his kitchen peeling an orange he’d retrieved from the fridge. He kept using a hand to sweep his over growing curls out of his face. And he’d meant to cut them, really, he just… liked how they’d begun to form. His hair extended past his ears now, hitting just below the nape of his neck. Beverly liked it too, she tucked it behind his ears whenever she could, ran her fingers in it and scratched at his scalp lightly, deeming him absolutely helpless. What could he say? He was a sucker for a massage of any kind. He liked affection. Maybe too much.

As he peeled back the last skin of the orange, his eyes lit up. “Yes!” He exclaimed beneath his breath and threw the skin into the garbage. Not even bothering to separate the sphere, he dove right in, taking a huge bite. The juices slid down his face, dripping onto his white shirt. He cursed lightly. This was his favorite shirt.

It was just a simple t-shirt he’d cut at the waist to show off the abs he’d managed to acquire from the school wrestling team. How he’d even became a certified jock was beyond him but suffice to say, he kind of loved it. Wrestling was something of an outlet for him. And his parents supported him- even if his dad thought it might make him somewhat more aggressive. But his dad was just an old school hippie. What did he know?

Just as Will went in for another bite, the doorbell sounded. Before he could even move, his mother’s voice came from upstairs. “Will, honey, would you get the door for me? I’ll be down in just a minute.”

Shrugging and wiping a hand on his jeans, he began his way to the door. “Sure, Mom.” He yelled back.

Turning the door knob, he chewed another piece of his orange. The door opened to reveal a dark haired man whom- if Will had to guess- was in his late twenties. The man’s hair was elegantly parted on the left with no stray hairs in sight. He was barely taller than Will was, maybe an inch or two. He stood semi-confidently at the door, briefcase in hand. He had beautifully tanned skin almost the color of honey, melting into his (expensive) suit collar. He wore a suit of deep tree bark with eyes to match and once Will had sized him up properly, he locked his own eyes with them. The man wore a smile. “Hello. My name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter. How do you do?”

Will swallowed the piece of fruit he’d been chewing and lifted an eyebrow. He leaned against the door frame. “Never heard that name before.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. I’m not from around here.” He spoke in a distinct accent. Then, he looked around outside at the neighborhood. It was an okay neighborhood, Will thought anyway. The grass was green, the neighbors were both friendly and annoyingly nosey and everyone knew everyone. Whatever. “It’s nice here.”

Will gave him another once over then a corner of his mouth lifted. Fine. He was handsome. In a weird kind of family lawyer way. Oh well. “You don’t look like a doctor.”

“I beg your pardon?” Hannibal’s expression remained neutral.

“I asked if you wanna come inside.” he bit into his orange again, one bite away from finishing. Never mind that Will hadn’t even asked who this strange guest was there to see.

The man’s deep brown eyes scrunched a little, promising a blink but not living up to it. His mouth twitched at the corner. “I’d love to.”

Pushing himself off of the door frame he turned on his heels, not bothering to look back a second time. He walked in the direction of the den, where his parents met all formal company. “You can come this way, Dr. Lecter.” And no matter what promise Will would speak against it, he definitely purred that moniker. Not by his own fault, of course. The name was so damn velvety on his tongue.

Will came to a halt in front of two chairs facing each other, separated by a simple glass coffee table that had a pitcher of sweet tea perspiring onto a wide coaster. Obviously this was an important guest if his mother had made a brew. At this revelation, an idea unwrapped inside his brain and made its way to his eyes, setting them afire. He made an “ooh” sound. He propped himself down in one of the chairs, one leg folded under the other, putting his last piece of fruit in his mouth. He looked up at Dr. Lecter who’d been obedient in following him. “You can have a seat.” He said, just in case he was waiting on an okay.

Evidently he was, taking a seat after giving Will a look he couldn’t quite read. “Delighted to. You have a lovely home, Mr. Graham.”

Will smiled widely then, reaching his sticky hands out to retrieve the pitcher. “Oh, thanks. Yeah, my dad’s an interior designer, so,” His tongue burned from the bold faced lie and he rubbed it atop the roof of his mouth as he poured the tea into an available glass. “You like sweet tea?”

“I’ve never had it.”

Mid-pour, Will’s eyes met Hannibal’s again. Amused he said, “You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

Hannibal returned Will’s expression, yet didn’t respond. It became evident that he felt as intrigued as Will did by their small conversation. Will considered no answer, an answer as he poured another glass then placed the pitcher down. He offered the glass to Hannibal who eyed it for a second then retrieved it with a warm smile. “Go on, take a sip.” He paused for a brief second. “It’s delicious.”

Hannibal brought it to his lips and swallowed. Smacking his lips, he raised an eyebrow. He sipped it again then nodded. “Yes. Just as I thought. Repulsive.”

Will’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped before he shook off his surprise. Just as he began to form a sentence, Hannibal grinned and put a hand up. “I’m kidding. It’s… good. I like it.”

Will cocked his head to the side with a humorous half smile. “You… are you kidding now, when you say it’s good?”

“No. It is. It’s such a different flavor.”

“As opposed to hot tea?” Will said, pressing his back flush to his chair.

Hannibal huffed with a smile staring at the glass in his hand. “Certainly.”

Will just looked at him then. In fact, Will couldn’t stop looking at Dr. Lecter. His eyes zeroed in on Hannibal’s large, veiny, polished hand holding the glass. He had long fingers, Will noted and to be fair, Will didn’t exactly know why he was noting it. Swallowing he spoke again, “I’m Will.” Hannibal returned his attention to Will. “You called me Mr. Graham. I’m Will. Greta’s son. Or Christopher’s son. Or both, depending on the day.”

He nodded. “Greta told me she had a son. I figured that was you very quickly.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Do I look that juvenile or is it the family resemblance?”

Hannibal placed his glass on the table, the blatant rawness of Will’s stare enough to make him choke. Just as he prepared himself to answer the question, Greta Graham entered the den.

“Hello, Dr. Lecter! Pardon my tardiness, I just.. I had to sort a couple things through.” The beautiful woman chimed, brunette hair cascading down her shoulders. As her green eyes fell upon Will, she visibly came under a realization. Her face was difficult to read then, soft, feminine features faltering for a split second. “I see you’ve met my beautiful son, Will.”

“That he has.” Will chimed. He pulled himself from the chair.

“I hope he hasn’t bothered you too much.”

“Oh, don’t be silly Mrs. Graham. He’s indeed been a pleasure.”

Will placed a kiss upon his mother’s cheek. “I’m always a pleasure, Mother, you know that.”

Greta hummed with a shake of her head, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Oh, Darling, you and most people don’t share the same definition of the word ‘pleasure’.”

Will gave his mother a look then, his eyes falling over her. He took into account the way she looked today, donning a long, floral, flowy number that stopped at the knee. Thin spaghetti straps rested on her smooth shoulders and a sweet little silver necklace with a Hamsa hung from her neck. Her face was bare, save for a polite swipe of balm across her lips and she smelled of vanilla and sea salt.

Oh, this was a special guest. No doubt about it. Greta wanted to make a good impression.

Will swallowed thickly, eyebrows knitting slightly, his mind a calm vortex of questions he couldn’t decide on. Gazing back at the man he’d humored for the last ten minutes, he clicked his tongue. “What sort of doctor did you say you were again, Dr. Lecter?”

Shooting his eyes back to his mother just after the last syllable of his question, he was not a moment late to catch the way she tensed just a tad. Will expected nothing more though, Greta was an impeccable woman but even she had her particular weaknesses. Will had learned them well. He hadn’t had a choice. She was reserved, polite, patient, elegant in her own leveled way and without a doubt, badass. Will had never met anyone who could challenge her, even he could not find a way into her vulnerability being the one person she showed a soft spot for. Aside from his father of course. Will didn’t just love his mother- he _respected_ Greta, he _admired_ Greta. If he could, he would model himself after her. Yet whatever God existed had made him entirely different than she was- save for a few loopholes.

Greta looked up at her son with a stern glint in her eye. “Will, I can imagine you’ve been knocking yourself silly interrogating Dr. Lecter. There’s no more time to waste, there’s a discussion between us adults to be had.”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Graham. Today is a slow day for me, I have little else to do.” Hannibal’s mouth turned up into a smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes. Maybe he was too busy boring them into Will’s. “I’m a psychiatrist, Will.”

Something inside of Will ceased, his heart folded in on itself and his chest caving. His nostrils flared as he struggled to contain his own distaste. As he looked back at his mother, her face a certain kind of flushed, his jaw set. Releasing it, he spoke, “Is… that so? A psychiatrist.” He shook his head slightly. “Huh.”

“Will, I just-”

“I’ve got wrestling practice.” He interjected. He looked away from her with a slow blink, starting off in the direction from which he came.

“Oh, Will!” Hannibal’s voice came, stopping him in his tracks.

Will heard something of underlying satisfaction and urgency in his tone and he shook the thought from his head. What on earth would Hannibal have to be satisfied about? The scene that had transpired was nothing shy of an overflowing mess, his mother’s intentions pulled from underneath the rug of which she swept it, a lock on the door of Will’s own demons coming loose. Of course the door that held those was well secured and his mother- or anyone for that matter would have some serious probing to do before they ever collected all of the keys. Yet a spark couldn’t help but ignite inside of Will at this tone in Hannibal’s voice. His mouth began to water some.

He turned around at the mouth of the arch, staring back into the belly of the den, Dr. Lecter’s eyes, full of light, focused on him. His mother had sat beside him, her own eyes sort of apologetic. Will softly raised an eyebrow, his face a contortion of annoyance and curiosity. “You’ve forgotten your sweet tea.”

Will inhaled, his head lifting higher. His mouth turned up on one side. “I’m allergic to tea.” And if he only judged from the way Hannibal’s face remained stoic and not the way his fingers gripped the armrest, he would’ve believed his passive deception had no effect on the man. But Will was smarter than that. “I haven’t had a cup since I was five and I have no recollection of what it even tastes like.” He shrugged. “Chug it for me.”

Then, he turned around for the last time and made his way up to his room. He didn’t want to be late for wrestling practice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_**Visuals For Will & Hannibal ** _

 

 

_**** _

   

                                                                            

 

 

 

 

                                                                           

 

                                                                                            

 

 

 

 


End file.
